My Splendid Concubine

by Lofthouse, Lloyd

  “You promised to share! You said you’d talk him into it. You never were as good a convincer as I was. It’s either you are not trying hard enough, or you want to keep him like you always tried to get all the moon cakes during the moon festival.”

  “You always throw that at me when you want something!” Ayaou replied. “It isn’t fair.”

  “You do not think I am good enough for Robert. You always think I am silly and stupid.”

  “That is not true, Shao-mei!”

  “You are selfish,” Shao-mei retorted. “You are not doing your best or he’d also be warming my bed at night. Then I would also know what it is like to be a woman fulfilled. I want Robert to be the man I give myself to. I do not want a stranger. I do not want Patridge. I do not want Hollister. Robert is not like the rooster that jumps on the hen and has his way with her against her will. He does not treat me like a hen. He is the only man I want. You have to share him with me.”

  There was a moment of silence before Ayaou said, “Why are you holding your head? Do not act so dramatic. It isn’t my fault. I have done the best I can.”

  “I have a headache.” Shao-mei said.

  “Then eat. You haven’t been eating. Have a bowl of rice porridge. I put sweet yams in it. Your favorite.”

  “No, I am not hungry. Just talking about food makes my stomach flip-flop. Leave me alone, sister. I don’t want to talk anymore. I am tired. I’m going back to bed.”

  “Wash the wok and bowls before you go. You agreed that I would cook and you would clean up. What is the matter with you? You have never acted like this before. The sister I grew up with has always been cheerful.”

  “You are mean to me,” Shao-mei said. “You won’t share Robert. I also do not feel good, and you want to make me work.”

  Confused and with his ears burning, Robert almost forgot about his narrow escape with the assailant. When he lifted his jacket off the hook, he checked the pocket to see if the revolver was there. He was satisfied when his fingers closed around its walnut grip. He resolved to never leave the house without this weapon again. He decided to be cautious in the future when moving about the city. He’d talk to the girls about the man in the alley below the bedroom window. Maybe the girls were in danger too. It was possible because Robert was a foreigner that a thug thought there was something worth stealing from this house. It bothered him that so many unknown dangers were out there. He now realized that anything could happen at any time. It made him feel helpless.

  At work, Robert lost his concentration and wasted his morning study time. By noon, he noticed a subtle change in his mood. He started to hum one of the songs that Ayaou liked to sing while cooking. Feeling better, Robert went home for lunch. He didn’t know what had come over him, but he wanted to see his girls.

  “Ayaou,” he said, once he was home, “I want you to find me a new Chinese teacher. I want to learn to think like a Chinese man.” Maybe, Robert thought, if he learned to think like one, he’d find a way to solve this problem with his two girls.

  With hands covering their mouths, both Ayaou and Shao-mei burst out laughing. “How can you think like a Chinese man when you do not act like one?”

  The new teacher’s name was Tee Lee Ping. He was in his late twenties and wore a knee length summer robe made of linen. He had a round face with busy eyebrows. His features reminded Robert of a cartoon frog with a mouth that looked like it stretched from ear to ear even when he wasn’t smiling. Once the greetings were over, Robert explained what he wanted.

  “So, you want to think like a Chinese man,” Tee Lee Ping said after a long silence. His eyebrows hadn’t been still. They had done this strange dance above his eyes while Ping glanced back and forth from the girls to Robert. “And how exactly do you see me doing that for you?”

  “By guiding me through great Chinese literature that shows how the Chinese people think, live and act. Literature is the eyes and ears of the past and present.”

  “Hmm,” was Tee Lee Ping’s answer. “Then I suggest you purchase a copy of the Outlaws of the Marsh by Shi Nai and Luo Guanzhong. It was written in what you would call the twelfth century.”

  “And it is about?” Robert asked.

  “You will read it to learn. Then we will discuss it. After that, you will read Journey to the West.”

  “Wait.” Robert held up a hand. “This Outlaws of the Marsh was written about six hundred years ago. How is that going to help me understand the Chinese today?”

  “People don’t change as the dynasties do. One example would be how clothing styles changed after the Ch’ing dynasty came to power. The clothing we Han Chinese wear today was not our traditional way of dressing when the Manchu came to rule China. Another example is the pigtail I wear. Before the Manchu, we Han did not shave our heads and grow a pigtail. Han Chinese tradition dictated that removing hair was against filial piety, because hair comes from the parents. Therefore, I feel it is best to go back before the Manchu to see how we Han think. Changing the way a man cuts his hair or the clothing he wears does not change the way he thinks.”

  It was all so bewildering to Robert. “I can see that I have much to learn. When was the Journey to the West written?”

  “According to your Christian calendar, the time would be in the 1590s during the Ming Dynasty. You may want to buy that book at the same time that you buy the other one. The Journey to the West has a hundred chapters. We will have a lot to discuss.”

  After that, Tee Lee Ping came every evening and worked with Robert. As they started to discuss the books, it was obvious Robert wasn’t going to learn much about his women. Maybe if he had told Ping his real motive, the teacher would’ve suggested something else to read. Robert wanted to understand more about the ways of his two women instead of the challenges of one hundred and eight brigands in the Outlaws of the Marsh.

  The Journey to the West was even less enlightening. It was about a journey by a Buddhist monk and his three guardians as they traveled from China to India to obtain a copy of a religious text called the Sutras.

  Robert was learning about Chinese religion and mythology and the value systems of the people. He didn’t see anything useful regarding his girls. He kept telling himself to be patient. He’d already learned that the Chinese were not direct in communicating what they meant. He was starting a journey where one must first travel north to arrive at a destination in the south. At some point, Robert hoped to discover what he wanted. He feared it might take years.

  Robert read the books Ping recommended twice. In the afternoons and evenings, he spent time with Ayaou and Shao-mei teaching them to read and write the same thing but a simpler version. In this way, his progress in learning Chinese improved. He was becoming fluent and was erasing any accent. No matter how fast his girls talked, he understood every word.

  The only thing missing was the harmony that should have been in the house. Too many days had passed since Ayaou and Robert had shared sexual intimacy. Ayaou had withdrawn. The more time that slipped by with the passion missing, the quieter the house became. Shao-mei, besides being tired all the time and having headaches, looked so sad that a worn-out dishcloth appeared happier.

  Ayaou went about her daily business of shopping for food, preparing meals and washing. Robert knew what was on her mind, but he couldn’t figure out a way to solve the problem. A victory for them was a defeat for him—a sweet defeat that he lost sleep over every night and ached for.

  Robert’s only hope was to learn how to think like a Chinese man. He wanted to sweep away his British upbringing into the alley where it would be carried into the river with the rest of the city’s waste. If one speck of that other Robert Hart survived, he’d be doomed as if the hounds of hell were after him.

  Tee Lee Ping continued to arrive every evening for several hours of instruction. One day before the end of September he handed Robert a gift. “You’re an able student,” he said. “From the start I realized you wanted to know more about your two concubines and why they act the way they do.
I felt it best to start with the first two books you have read and discussed with me. In time, I believe you will see the reason I selected this path to the knowledge and understanding you seek.

  “This gift is another Chinese classic titled The Dream of the Red Chamber. It was written about one hundred years ago. I recommend you read it to develop an understanding of Chinese women. There will be an opera in Ningpo in December that is based on this classic. Finish the book by then. Also share this book with your two concubines, and take them to the opera with you.”

  “An opera,” Robert said. “I’ve never been to an opera—not even in Ireland.” To think that his first opera would be in Chinese. “Is there anything I should know about this opera to understand it better?” he asked.

  Tee Lee Ping held up a hand. “Be patient,” he said. “Read the book first. Then we will discuss it. That way when you sit in an audience watching the opera, you will understand the reaction of the Chinese, who will be watching it too. Their reactions will teach you more about how they think. This, I feel, is the best road to take for your enlightenment.

  “Mr. Hart,” he said. “You are a rare individual for a foreigner. I have taught other foreigners before you. Usually they are missionaries or merchants and none ever wanted to know how the Chinese think. I have talked to my colleagues about you, and none have ever met a man like you.”

  The next morning, when Robert left the house on his way to the consulate, he remembered Tee Lee Ping’s words. Robert might be rare, but that didn’t matter if he got himself killed in the streets. Thinking that he might have forgotten the pistol, he reached in his pocket and was relieved to find it there. The freak fog that had almost been his undoing was gone. The sun was back, and it was already baking the clear air. He looked around searching the street and relaxed when he did not see anyone who looked menacing.

  Chapter 16

  Robert was in constant fear that Ward would come for Ayaou.

  Usually only Ayaou and Robert were up early in the mornings for breakfast, but Shao-mei was getting up earlier. Her mood was gloomy. She complained often of headaches and feeling sick to her stomach. She didn’t eat much but just sat staring at her food as if it were the enemy.

  Robert thought she was depressed, because he wouldn’t cross the hall to her room and sleep with her. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to. He wondered if God were testing him to see if he was sincere in wanting to change from the man that left Ireland. Shao-mei and the forbidden apple from the Garden of Eden were similar, and, like Adam, Robert wanted to pluck the apple and have his way with it.

  As the end of autumn drew near, the plants and pots of poet’s jasmine the girls carefully tended were still in full bloom, and the sweet scent of jasmine filled the house. The wisteria was also in bloom. Dramatic clusters of blue, pink, purple and white flowers dangled from the vines. The girls always left the window open to encourage the wisteria to grow around the window frame and into the kitchen where they were training it to climb the walls. He didn’t like the window open but said nothing. He didn’t want to reveal his fear of Ward showing up to reclaim Ayaou.

  It was a relief to set off for the consulate where he spent several hours a day dealing with shipping and doing his job as an interpreter. When one of Captain Patridge’s ships arrived, Robert did the paperwork while counting the days until the deal he’d made with the devil ended. He did not like helping Patridge smuggle opium into China.

  Robert was not alone at the consulate anymore. A Dr. Winchester had arrived on the Styx to take Hollister’s place as acting Vice-Counsel in Ningpo. Dr. Winchester had been with the Consular service since 1843, and had come from Amoy where he’d been Vice-Consul. His wife was a large woman who astounded the Chinese with her huge size. She was not only tall but also wide. Her bosom alone would have concealed Shao-mei.

  In mid-November, a small flotilla of Cantonese pirates chased several Portuguese lorchas up the coast and into the river to Ningpo. Both groups were pirates, and they blasted away at one another out in the river. Bullets and cannonballs smacked into the city’s walls. The consulate was outside the city wall, so Dr. Winchester closed and barred the gates. He then retreated behind the thick walls of the consulate with his wife. Robert climbed a ladder to the roof where he hid behind a chimney to watch what was happening.

  The Portuguese pirates left their ships and retreated into the city. They scattered in small groups and headed toward the foreign consulates looking for asylum. One group came toward the British consulate. When they started pounding on the gate, Robert climbed down from the roof, crossed the courtyard and reached for the bar to remove it and let them in.

  “Don’t open that gate, Hart,” Dr. Winchester said. He stood in the consulate’s doorway. “We don’t want to risk those Cantonese pirates breaking in here to get the Portuguese.” Robert, feeling helpless, stepped away from the gate.

  The Portuguese continued to beat their fists raw while pleading for sanctuary.

  “Sir, we can’t stand here and do nothing,” Robert protested. “We have weapons. We can fight.”

  “Why do you want to help these people, Hart? They are Portuguese pirates. They brought this on themselves, and there are only two of us to fight the Cantonese. There are hundreds of them, and the Cantonese pirates have cannons. They could blow the gate down. What would happen to us then? I have my wife to think of. Besides, they’re all pirates and should hang.”

  Robert bit his tongue and kept silent. After all, he also had Ayaou and Shao-mei to care for. What would happen to them if he were killed? The Portuguese were still on the other side of the gate begging to be let in.

  “In fact, it is probably better if the Cantonese didn’t know who’s inside these walls,” Dr. Winchester said. He went to the flagpole and brought down the British ensign. Robert returned to his concealed place on the roof and flattened himself on the tiles behind the chimney.

  The Cantonese pirates hunted the Portuguese through the day and beheaded those they found. The survivors eventually surrendered. The Cantonese loaded their prisoners onto one of the lorchas, towed it into the middle of the river and set fire to it with the Portuguese on board. From where Robert was hidden, he witnessed everything. The screams of the Portuguese roasting inside that ship were hideous. When the wind shifted toward the city, it carried the stench of burning bodies with it. Sometimes in his dreams, Robert still heard the pounding on the gate and the desperate voices of the Portuguese.

  Dr. Winchester’s wife called for Robert to come in for supper. He left the roof.

  “Set one thief to get rid of another,” Dr. Winchester said, as they gathered around the table to eat. “It is only fitting.”

  Guan-jiah came into the compound through a small side gate that opened to an alley behind the consulate. He kowtowed to Dr. Winchester, and said, “Masters, the Cantonese pirates have come ashore and are hunting for other foreigners to behead or burn. I came to warn you, so you will keep the gates locked. Load all your weapons and be ready.”

  Dr. Winchester hurried to get his double-barreled shotgun. When Guan-jiah didn’t move, Robert urged him to leave and return to his family. “Surely, Guan-jiah, if they come in here to harm us, you will also suffer our fate.”

  “Master,” he said, “if you have an extra weapon, I will stand and fight beside you.”

  “No, you have to go. You have a family to consider.”

  A stricken look filled Guan-jiah’s face. He threw himself to the ground and kowtowed. “I am your slave, Master. I will not abandon you. Your fate is my fate.”

  Blood rushed into Robert’s head. “Get up, Guan-jiah!” He knelt, took his servant by the shoulders, and made him stand. He was so overwhelmed by the eunuch’s show of loyalty he couldn’t respond. Instead, he went for his pistol and came back with a sword for Guan-jiah. They gathered around the dining table and listened to the shooting and screams outside the walls.

  Mrs. Winchester sat at the table with a loaded single shot blunderbuss. She kept a b
urning candle nearby to light the fuse. The blunderbuss was loaded with small iron balls. “It was my father’s,” she said, “and I know how to use it.”

  “If they break down the gate and get into the courtyard, I will use my shotgun first,” Dr. Winchester said. “My wife will shoot them with the blunderbuss when they reach the door to this room. Hart, while my wife and I reload, you use that pistol to hold them at bay. If they get inside, Guan-jiah, use that sword to hack at them. With any luck, we’ll kill more than a score before any set foot inside this room.” He turned to Robert. “If you are willing to go back up on that roof so we have a warning, that would be good of you.”

  Robert returned to the roof and crawled across the tiles to his former position behind the chimney. From his hiding place, he watched an American merchant crawl through a window across the street in an attempt to escape. Two Cantonese pirates saw him and gave chase. Robert wanted to shoot at them and give the American a chance. Then he realized he would be putting everyone in the consulate at risk if he did.

  The sails of a large ship appeared out at sea. Robert squinted to see better. It looked like a naval ship. He scrambled down. “Telescope,” he said, with excitement coursing through his veins. “There’s a big ship coming in. It has the look of a man-of-war.”

  “Good God, could it be British?” Dr. Winchester said. “Maybe they discovered we were in danger and came from Shanghai.” His hands were shaking as he pulled open a drawer in a cabinet and handed Robert a collapsing telescope. Dr. Winchester stood at the foot of the ladder as Robert climbed.

  Once Robert trained the telescope on the ship, he saw it was a French warship. He started shouting in his best Mandarin that a foreign warship was arriving. “Run, run, return to our ships,” he shouted, hoping the pirates thought his voice belonged to one of them. “It is a French warship coming to sink us. If they catch us, we will hang.”

  His ruse worked for the pirates rushed to the beach. Some of them pointed at the warship and looked frantic. They piled into their boats, rowed out to the pirate ships, and fled up river. Robert searched the streets with the telescope and was relieved when he saw the American merchant had survived.